Those Flashing Red and Blue Lights
by StarProphecy7279
Summary: Lovino remembers only too well those flashing red and blue lights that flooded his bedroom the night his parents were killed. Little does he know, however, just how much that night would change his life, in the form of the young Spaniard across the street. Slowly, with Antonio's help, Lovino will come to realize that there are worse things in the world than being an orphan. AU
1. Chapter 1

A/N: Look at all the nothings I regret :D

Summary: Lovino remembers only too well those flashing red and blue lights that flooded his bedroom the night his parents were killed. Little does he know, however, just how much that night would change his life, in the form of the young Spaniard across the street. Slowly, with Antonio's help, Lovino will come to realize that there are worse things in the world than being an orphan… and maybe even fall in love along the way. Spamano AU

Warnings: domestic abuse, scenes of a graphic sexual nature, language, ANGST.

If you were to talk to my brother about the night our parents died, you wouldn't get a very interesting story. My little brother doesn't remember that night. He is unable to recall our mother's red dress or our father's blue tie as they stood by the front door of our childhood home. He cannot revoke the sound of our mother's voice as she kissed us on both cheeks and told us to behave for the elderly woman that would be supervising us for the night. He can't remember our father hugging us goodnight or us waving as the black sports car pulled out of the driveway and drove off. I, being two years my brother's senior, can. I had no idea, when my mother told us she loved us in our native Italian that it would be the last time I ever heard it, but I remember it and relish it like a jewel. I was only seven when they died, but I remember the sirens and those flashing red and blue lights when the police came to tell us what had happened.

A drunk driver was the reason I was raised by my grandfather. An idiot redneck leaving the bar at three in the morning in his huge, tiny penis pickup truck hit our small sports car head on. My father, who had been driving, was killed on impact. My mother died two hours later in the hospital.

And just like that, the life my brother and I had always known was gone, and we were shipped from our home in New Jersey to a small town in New York to live with my Grandfather, Romano, for whom I was given my second name.

The day I moved in is the day I met _him_, the one this story is really about.

I remember it well, standing in the kitchen, glaring at my grandfather as he attempted to entertain us, make us feel more comfortable in our new home.

"Lovino, what's that in your ear?"

I rolled my eyes. The pathetic magic tricks hadn't interested me since I had been four. My brother, on the other hand, had always been easily entertained—not to mention gullible—and stood on his toes to look in my ear.

"Ve, I don't see anything, Nonno…," he said. I wanted to slap him.

"Are you sure, Feli?" Nonno said, jovially. "Look closer."

I rolled my eyes again, crossing my arms over my chest as my brother leaned in closer to my head.

"Ve, there's nothing there."

"Really? I can definitely see something. Let me see…" A quarter appeared in his hand as if he had suddenly pulled it out of my ear. I only continued to glare at him, unamused as my brother clapped excitedly.

"Come now, Lovino. Can't you give me a little smile?"

The answer was a resounding "No," but I didn't say anything. I hadn't said a word, in fact, since the police had come to tell us our parents were dead, a fact that had both my grandfather and the psychologist my family was now seeing worried. I didn't really see it as a problem. The last thing I had said was "Ti amo," to my mother—Italian for "I love you." I wanted that to be on the tip of my tongue for a while. Why was that such a problem?

"Oh, Lovino… I know you're sad. I'm sad too… but silence isn't going to solve anything, Babino."

Still, I said nothing. Nonno sighed but before he could say another word, the doorbell rang. Great. Another idiot from this idiotic neighborhood, I thought as Nonno stood to go answer the door.

"Come on, Lovi!" Feliciano exclaimed, grabbing my hand and pulling me in the direction Nonno had gone. "Let's go see who it is!"

Oh boy. My brother's an idiot, I thought as he dragged me at breakneck speed after our grandfather. My brother had always been the friendlier of the two of us, much to my frustration. He had always made friends easily and been eager to entertain, just like Nonno. I, on the other hand, was anti-social, even downright mean sometimes. It wasn't as though, I did it on purpose; it was just a part of who I am. And I'm pretty damn amazing so it can't be all that bad.

"Hola, Señor Vargas!" said an obnoxiously happy voice. I groaned internally at the sunshiny chipperness.

"Ah, hello, Antonio," Nonno said in a pleased voice. Ugh, god the happiness. I was getting a mother fucking cavity. "Did your mother send you along?"

"Sí!" the boy I still couldn't see shouted. "She baked cookies for your new niños!"

"How sweet of her," said Nonno.

It was at this moment that Feliciano, jumping up and down on the balls of his feet, moved slightly to his right. That was the first time I ever saw him.

Every bit of him screamed poverty: the red shirt he wore—patterned in the design of the Spanish flag—was faded and slightly too big for him, his denim shorts sporting massive holes in the knees. His feet, left bare, were covered in so much dirt; his skin appeared to be several shades darker than the rest of him, which already had a dusty brown tint. His hair was so messy it appeared he had never even heard of a brush. But what really stood out on him were his eyes: they were the brightest green I had ever seen, like emeralds shining in his tanned face. They were so exuberant and expressive, only adding to the wide, toothy smile he wore plastered on his face.

But what Feliciano was preoccupied with was the plate of saran-wrapped chocolate chips cookies.

"Yay! Cookies!"

"Antonio, these are my grandsons," Nonno said ushering us both forward with a hand at the small of our backs. "Feliciano and Lovino."

I glared at him. Why did he always have to introduce Feliciano first? I was older!

"Ve~ hello!" shouted Feliciano. I just turned my glare on him. His smile didn't falter. He was far too used to my foul moods to be intimidated.

"Hello, Feli; hi Lovi."

…_Lovi? _I should have punched him. No one called me Lovi and got away with it… except for my little brother because he couldn't pronounce my name. I never even let my mother call me that, I thought bitterly.

"Say hello, Lovino," said Nonno, prodding me lightly in the back.

I only continued to glare at the boy before me. He was too happy, I decided, too cheerful and smiley. That could only mean he was an idiot.

Antonio's head cocked to the side in confusion.

"Can Lovi not talk yet?" he asked, looking up at Nonno.

"No, no, he can. He's just choosing not to."

"Why?"

"Well… Lovi's very sad right now. He misses his parents."

I wanted to punch him. I was getting sick of everyone talking about me as if I wasn't there. Just because I wasn't speaking didn't mean I was stupid but all the adults around me were treating me like I was. They were the ones who were stupid, I concluded.

"Oh…," Antonio said. He suddenly seemed much more somber as his hand came up to rest over his heart. "I understand."

Somehow I doubted that. How could someone this cheerful possibly understand what I was feeling? Clearly, he'd never experienced a loss in his life.

"I miss my daddy too," Antonio said solemnly. "He lives in Spain with mi madrastra and big brother."

Oh boy. Back story. /sarcasm.

"I've only seen him twice. But last time he came here, he gave me this," from the front of his shirt he pulled a large, emerald encrusted cross. "He said as long as I had it close to my heart, he would be there too."

Without another word he pulled the chain over his head and lowered it back over mine, dropping the necklace onto my chest.

"I think it'll keep your mama and papa close to you too. You need it more than I do. Your parents are further away than mine are."

"That's very kind of you, Antonio," said Nonno, softly. "Lovino, what do you say?"

For a moment, I did nothing, simply stared at him, my head cocked to the side, regarding him closely. Then, slowly, very slowly, I raised my arms in front of me.

And pushed him. As hard as I could.

With a yell of shock, Antonio stumbled, back over the threshold before losing his balance and falling flat on his back on the pavement in front of our house.

"Lovino!"

But Antonio was laughing, pushing himself back to a sitting position, his wide smile back in place on his face.

"I like you, Lovi," Antonio said, pushing himself back to his feet. "You're funny."

I'd had enough of this idiot. Ignoring my grandfather's chastising, I turned on my heel, and stomped off in the direction of my new room to sulk and reflect on what my new life in this pathetic neighborhood would likely end up.

The following week, Feliciano and I had to start school. If you've ever had to switch schools in the middle of the school year, you know how stressful it is. It suuuuuuuucks.

Since we lived only a few blocks from Hetalia Elementary, the local public school (I know. Weird name.) Nonno thought it seemed rather pointless for us to drive down. Nonno already walked Antonio to school every morning as his mother had to head in to work around the time he had to leave, and for some reason, his step father refused to do it.

The first thing that registered with me when I saw Antonio that morning was that I had never seen him look this clean before. I'd seen him wandering around the streets many times during the past week and he had always been covered in a thin layer of dirt, wearing his dirty, worn out clothes. Today, he looked prim and proper in his pressed white shirt and blue school jacket. Part of the shock was the fact that this was the first time I had ever seen him wear shoes.

The second thing I noticed was that he looked more miserable than I had ever seen him before. Antonio was almost always smiling, his green eyes sparkling with laughter and joy. Right now, he was sitting on the steps of his porch; his eyes shut tight, his hands over his ears in an attempt to block out the angry voices issuing from the screen door behind him.

"Look what you did, you stupid bitch!"

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry! Aagh!"

As a scream rent the air, Nonno dropped mine and Feliciano's hand, running ahead of us to bolt up the stairs past Antonio to hammer on the door.

"Alma!" Nonno shouted, "Alma, are you okay?"

"Just a minute," came a weak voice from inside. Feliciano and I exchanged confused looks as footsteps approached.

"H-hello, Romano."

From doorway emerged a lovely woman who could only be Antonio's mother. She had the same curly brown hair and dusty colored skin. However her demeanor was as different from Antonio's as was possible to be. Whereas Antonio was usually all smiles and laughs, this woman seemed broken and depressed. The part of her face that wasn't concealed by the hair falling in her eyes was pale and sunken, and the lines around her mouth revealed how often she frowned. If her downcast eyes were any indication, she didn't have a drop of self-confidence.

"Are you okay?" Nonno asked.

"Y-yes, of course," the woman stuttered, her gaze remaining trained on the cement stairs beneath her.

Without a word, Nonno placed a hand under the woman's chin, gently forcing her to meet his gaze.

"Walk into another door?" he asked, his voice heavy with irony.

The woman's left eye was horribly blackened, swollen and painful looking. And that wasn't all. Upon closer inspection, it looked like the woman was wearing a very thick layer of make-up, poorly masking a series of bruises and cuts all over her face. It looked as if she had been in some sort of accident.

"Y-yes," she murmured.

"Alma-"

"I said I'm fine," she said defiantly.

Nonno did not look convinced.

"Maybe I should have a talk with that _door_."

"No. I'm fine. I'm just running late for work. Please…."

The concern was still evident in Nonno's eyes but he said no more about it, letting his hand fall back to his side. Antonio's mother sighed in relief and turned to look at her son.

"Come give me a hug, hijo."

Antonio got to his feet and ran to his mother, wrapping his arms around her middle, tightly.

"Have a good day, Hijo," said Alma, kissing her son's forehead and giving him a strained smile. Antonio did not return the grin.

"Mamí… por favor…."

"Soy bien, amor," Alma murmured. "No estés preocupado."

"Pides mas de es possible, Mamí,"

Alma chuckled quietly.

"Be nice to Lovino and Feliciano," she said, holding onto Antonio's hands. "First days are hard."

"I know, Mamí,"

"Good boy. Now I have to go. Be good."

Antonio nodded as his mother pulled away and moved toward the beat up old station wagon in the driveway.

"I'll be by to pick him up around five," Alma added to Nonno.

"Okay," said Nonno. "Have a good day."

"Thank you."

"Bye bye, Mamí," said Antonio, still looking slightly miserable.

"Bye bye, hijo."

As we began our trek to school, I glanced up at Antonio; he kept looking back over his shoulder to where his mother's car had previously been. I wanted to ask him what the hell his problem was but that would obviously require talking, something I wasn't willing to do. Instead, I looked up at Nonno expecting him to ask Antonio what was wrong, but Nonno didn't seem to be paying attention. His face was morphed into a scowl worthy almost of me as he stared at the pavement beneath his feet. What was wrong with everyone? Only my stupid brother seemed to be oblivious to the tension surrounding us. The idiot was skipping along ahead of us, singing at the top of his voice. My brother's stupid.

No one said a word as we walked. In fact, it wasn't until we had arrived in front of the doors to the main office and Antonio was about to scamper off that Nonno finally spoke.

"Wait just a moment, Antonio."

Antonio doubled back his head cocked to the side in puzzlement as Nonno knelt down in front of him to be at his eye-level, his face a mask of soft concern.

"Antonio… are there any problems at home?"

I saw his green eyes widen in terror, but only for a moment.

"No," he replied too quickly.

"Seth is treating your mother alright?"

Here, I actually saw a brief wave of anger wash over Antonio's features. His eyes darkened and I saw his mouth turn down in a scowl. But it was gone nearly as quickly as it had come, his face smoothing out as he looked up at my grandfather and smiled.

"Of course."

As someone who got away with lying quite a lot, I knew an expert when I saw one. He was good, no doubt but I could see right through his false, too wide smile. His tone was too calm, his stance a touch too defensive, and he was looking at Nonno's nose, not his eyes.

Nonno evidently didn't believe him either. His brow creased further in concern, his eyes darting between Antonio's as if searching for the truth.

"I have to go, sir," Antonio said quickly. "I'll be late."

And before Nonno could call him back, he had run off in the direction of the third grade classrooms.

Nonno sighed, getting to his feel and pinching the bridge of his nose.

"Come on, boys," he mumbled, "We don't want to be late."

We deposited Feli in the pre-kindergarten classroom. Idiot was already chatting it up with a blonde German. How did he manage to make friends so quickly? I've always been jealous of that trait of his.

When we passed by the first grade classrooms, I started to get confused. It looked like Nonno was leading me back toward the main office.

"You're not going to class yet, Lovino," he said in response to my questioning look. "I want you to see the school consoler first."

Ah, another shrink. Lovely. Just in case I hadn't seen enough of them in the past three weeks. All Feli and I had done was be shifted in and out of therapy, having adults talk at us about our feelings and our parents—two things I didn't want to think about. I scowled at the prospect of again repeating the process.

"Now don't look like that," said Nonno sternly. "You're silence is worrying me. I just want to make sure you're okay."

_I'm fine!_ I wanted to shout. But that would of course require talking and I wasn't willing to do that. I failed to see why there was anything wrong with that.

"Hello," said the overly-chipper receptionist when we entered the office. "How can I help you?"

Well you could start by taking off that too-red lipstick and smiling less. Why was everyone in this stupid town so damn smiley? It was downright irritating.

"We're here to see Mrs. Jones," said Nonno. I rolled my eyes at his perky tone.

"Ah, you must be Lovinol" she said turning her red lipped smile to me. Shockingly I just glared at her. "She's expecting you. You can go on back."

"Thank you," said Nonno, pulling me by the hand down a hallway to a door adorn with a gold plaque that read "Linda Jones"

Nonno knocked. The door was opened by a very pretty, bonde woman.

"You must be Mr. Vargas," she said brightly, adjusting her square glasses in front of her bright blue eyes and sweeping her ponytail over her shoulder. "And you must be Lovino," she added to me in chipper tones. I winced at the high-pitched greeting. "Would you like to come talk to me for a little while."

No.

"Go on, Lovino," said Nonno giving me a push in the small of the back. "I'll be right out here."

Knowing it was pointless to fight it, I sighed and walked through the door Mrs. Jones held open for me. Still smiling, she closed the door on Nonno and sat down in an armchair, motioning for me to take a seat on the black, leather sofa across from her.

One glance around the office revealed just how popular the woman was amongst the students: the walls were plastered with crayon-drawn pictures and cards proclaiming "I love you, Ms. Jones!" in marker, the desk littered with little hand-made knick-knacks and crudely painted animals. The kids at this school obviously loved their consoler.

"Lovino, why don't you take a seat?"

I'd been distracted by the art around the room and had been standing there staring around for nearly a full minute. Slightly, I shook my head and climbed onto the sofa, seating myself between a stuffed lion and an otter puppet.

"Alright," she said, crossing her legs and leaning towards me, peering at me over the table as if I were a very interesting TV program. "I understand you and your brother just moved here from New Jersey."

I said nothing.

"How do you like New York so far?"

Again, I said nothing. This wasn't going to work. I wasn't going to talk. I just wasn't going to do.

After a moment of silence, Mrs. Jones sat back in her chair and said thoughtfully, "You know, your grandfather tells me you're quite the little artist."

This actually took me by surprise. I liked to draw and paint, yes, but I wasn't as good as my little brother as people always liked to remind me. Feliciano was five years old and already drawing pretty realistic faces. I was good for my age but not as good as him. I felt a rush of affection for my grandfather at his thoughtfulness at mentioning this.

"Would you be willing to draw a picture for me?"

I pursed my lips, intrigued as she got to her feet and moved to a cabinet, opening it and pulling out paper and a box of colored pencils. This time she settled herself cross-legged on the floor in front of the table, setting the supplies down in front of her.

"Can you draw a picture of your family for me?"

I saw nothing immediately wrong with this so I slid off the couch onto my knees in front of the table and pulled the pencils and paper toward me to begin scribbling out a picture of my mother, father, Feli and me. Then, I glanced up at the door and added Nonno in for good measure before handing the picture to Mrs. Jones.

"Hmm… I see you have your brother and you right here…."

I nodded.

"And… is that your mom and dad?"

Again, I nodded.

"I bet what happened was pretty hard on you."

I said nothing, just stared at Mrs. Jones, my heart sinking. I didn't want to talk about this again. I was sick of everyone treating me like I was made of glass, feeling sorry for me and my poor, orphaned brother. I didn't want to think about what had happened. It was easier to just pretend Feliciano and I were on vacation visiting Nonno for a few weeks, that Mamma and Papá were back home ejoying some alone time. I didn't want to think about them being dead, remember their funeral or the flashing red and blue lights that had so drastically altered the course of my life. Why couldn't everyone just drop it?

"Lovino… do you like your grandfather."

I looked at her, surprised by the question before nodding.

"You know, I bet what happened was just as hard on him as it was on you and your brother."

I was silent.

"There are a lot of people you can talk to, Lovino; your grandpa, your teacher, your brother, me… you don't have to talk if you don't want to but I want you to know it's okay to be sad."

I just stared at her.

"Now, I'm going to call you in to talk once a week for a little while."

Great.

"But right now, I want you to head to class, get to know your teacher and make some new friends, okay?"

Unlikely.

"She stood up and motioned for me to do the same. Getting to my feet I followed her out of the room, back into the main office where Nonno was sitting.

"All done?" he asked.

"Yes," said Mrs. Jones. "I think he'll be fine, but I would like to see him again."

"Okay, when?"

"I'll call him out of class next Thursday after lunch."

"Okay," said Nonno smiling. "Thank you."

"Thank you."

"Hello," said an elderly woman when we got to the first grade classroom. "Are you Lovino?"

"Yes," Nonno answered for me. "He hasn't spoken much lately," he added in reply to the teacher's questioning look. "Might be a good thing too. My daughter told me he has quite vocabulary." He forced a chuckle.

"Well it's a pleasure to meet you, Lovino," said the teacher. "My name is Mrs. Hoffman. Would you like me to introduce you to the class?"

No.

"Quiet please, boys and girls," she called to the class. The mindless early morning chatter died away as all heads turned to look at the teacher. "Everyone we have a new student joining us today." I saw a few eyes flicker towards me before fixing themselves back on Mrs. Hoffman. "This," she put her hand on my shoulder to indicate me, "is Lovino. Everyone say hi to Lovino."

"Hi, Lovino," chanted the mindless idiots. I just glared at them all.

"Good," said Mrs. Hoffman, smiling fondly at her students. "And I know you'll all do everything you can to make Lovino feel welcome, right?"

There was a general murmur of agreement. Please. These morons didn't know what they were getting themselves into.

"Alright," Nonno crouched down in front of me, holding onto one of my hands. "Are you okay if I leave, Lovino?"

I rolled my eyes and nodded. I wasn't three. I'd been to school before. I didn't need everyone worrying about me.

"Okay," he hugged me a muttered "have a good day, amore."

I nodded again.

As nonno left the classroom, I turned to look at my new classmates. My stomach gave an uncomfortable lurch: I had never been very good at the whole social aspect of public schooling. That was more Feliciano's area of expertise. My eyes scanned the faces before me wondering if any one of them would have the patience needed to be my friend. Somehow, I doubted it.

"Lovino, why don't you sit right here, next to Berwald," said Mrs. Hoffman, indicating a cross-looking boy with blonde hair and glasses.

_I don't want to sit next to Berwald, _I thought. _Berwald looks scary_.

The boy's face was set in a permanent scowl, one that rivaled even mine. Briefly, his blue eyes made contact with mine but I couldn't find the courage to hold his gaze for more than a few seconds.

"Go on," said Mrs. Hoffman.

Dammit, didn't look like I had much of a choice. Awkwardly, I pulled out the chair of the desk she had indicated and sat down, careful not to look at my neighbor as his cold eyes followed me, but losing th battle with myself when Mrs. Hoffman walked away.

I didn't know why this boy was so intimidating. It had something to do with his eyes, but I just could put my finger on it. We held each other's gaze for a moment, neither of us speaking. Then slowly, very slowly, Berwald reached into his desk, causing me to wince back in fear.

He pulled out a candy bar, a mini Hershey's bar, a laid it in front of me on my desk without a word. Confused, my eyes moved between the chocolate before me and the boy who had set it there, wondering what the hell was going on. Berwald said nothing. Just turned to train his eyes back on the teacher leaving me to ponder his strange behavior in puzzled silence.

Nothing of interest really happened that day until our first recess. Unlike the rest of the idiots in my class, I decided to _walk_ outside rather than sprinting like my life depended on it, so by the time I exited the building, most of the school was already on the playground.

"Lovi!"

I whiled around at the call, expecting to find my little brother, probably with a gang of idiot pre-k students, but instead found myself glaring at the last person I wanted to see.

"See! I told you guys! He's cute!"

…_cute?!_ I was going to kill Antonio! No one called me cute.

Admittedly, his annoying boisterous attitude was a tad refreshing after the events of this morning. Whatever had been bothering him seemed to have been long forgoten if the smile on his face was any indication. It may have had something to do with the two boys flanking him as he darted across the playground to where I stood with my arms crossed, glaring at him.

"Oui," said the blonde boy on his left when they reached me in a heavy French accent, "He is very cute, non?"

No, I wanted to say. But of course, I didn't say anything, just continued to glare up at Antonio, in annoyance. My neighbor was an idiot.

"Lovi, these are my two best friends in the whole wide world, Francis—" he indicated the French boy that had spoken—"and Gilbert—" he gestured to the other boy on his red, the one wearing sun glasses and a bright red hoodie, hiding his hair.

"You!" shouted the one called Gilbert, suddenly. "Do you think Prussia is an awesome country?"

Good god, this boy was louder than Feliciano.

"It isn't a country at all, Gilbert," said Francis. "My mamman told me it hasn't been one since World War II."

"Prussia's too awesome not to exist! Right, kid?" he added to me, lowering his sunglasses to reveal his eyes.

"I told you. Lovi doesn't talk."

But my determined silence was the farthest thing from my mind at the moment, for my eyes had met that of the Gilbert boy and I had stumbled backwards in shock. Gilbert's eyes were red, bright red like that of a demon. I almost wanted to scream and run away at the sight but instead I stood staring, horrified.

"What?" said Gilbert, tilting his head in confusion.

"What's wrong, Lovi," asked Antonio moving to slip an arm around my shoulders. I was still so shocked I didn't even shrug him off as his eyes followed my line of vision to what I was staring at.

"Oh… I think your eyes scared him, Gil."

"My eyes aren't scary! They're awesome!"

"It's okay, Lovi," said Antonio in soothing tone. "Gilbert's eyes are just that color because he's… what do you call it again, Gil?"

"Albino," said Gilbert, smirking widely, like it was the coolest thing in the world. "It means I'm too awesome for Melanin. The stuff that gives you color," he added in response to my questioning look. "It makes me too awesome for sunlight so I have to wear hoodies and sunglasses when I'm outside."

"Yeah," said Antonio, "he's not scary. Just special. Like Mamá says."

"You mean awesome."

I stared at the boys around me, now convinced I had fallen into some parallel universe infested with morons. Slowly coming back to my sense, I registered that Antonio still had has arm around me. I shrugged him off with a scowl. He just laughed merrily.

"Lovi! We were going to play tetherball. Do you wanna play with us?" Antonio asked.

No.

Without waiting for an answer, Antonio grabbed my hand and began pulling me across the playground toward the tether-ball court, leaving me only to reflect on the fact that my idiot neighbor was drawing very close to tromping on my last nerve.

We met Nonno outside after the final bell tolled. This time our walk was actually quite pleasant. Antonio was still in his normal good mood and spent most of the stroll chatting with Nonno and Feliciano about school. From the sound of it Feliciano had loved his first day.

"Ve~ and they have paint, and drawing, and clay! Me and Lucille painted pictures during free time. She's not very good, but I'm gonna teach her!"

"Very good, Feli," Nonno chuckled, patting my stupid brother on the head. "And how was your day, Lovino?"

I looked up at him, blankly, giving no answer.

"Still not talking, I see," said Nonno disappointed. "Well there's always tomorrow."

"Señor Vargas," piped up Antonio, "It's such a nice day. Can we go to the park before we head home?"

"I suppose so," said Nonno. "The boys haven't seen the park yet anyway."

The playground at the public park was small, consisting of only a small slide and a swing set, much to Feli's excitement. He and Nonno bounded over to play on the swings as Antonio took my hand and began pulling me towards the forest that flanked the park.

"Come on, Lovi," he said. "I wanna show you something."

I got nervous when he started leading me off the small path and into the thick trees surrounding us.

"Don't worry," said Antonio, when I faltered, "I know where I'm going."

Hesitantly, I followed.

We walked for nearly twenty minutes in silence, me growing more and more anxious as the minutes ticked by, worrying we had gotten lost in the trees and that the idiot humming in front of me had lied to me. But,after what seemed like an hour had passed, we finally reached a clearing blocked off by a wooden sign reading Do Not Enter, which Antonio ignored as if he hadn't seen it.

"Don't worry," he said again, when I stopped and tried to pull my hand out of his. "I come here all the time. Nothing bad'll happen. Trust me."

No way, I thought. Something bad always happens.

Antonio pulled me through what looked like some sort of abandoned cabin, the door nearly falling off the frame when Antonio pulled it open and ushered me inside to sit on the dusty floor in front of the empty fire place.

"I come here a lot," said Antonio scooting closer to me. "Mostly when my parents fight. It's a good place to be alone and clear your head. I thought it might help you start talking again."

_Who says I want to talk again?_ I thought.

"I know how you feel, Lovi," said Antonio wisely. "You're lonely and sad and you feel like no one could possibly understand you."

Shut up.

"You feel like you might die, it hurts so much."

Shut up.

"But it's okay to feel like that, Lovi. No one will judge you for –"

"Shut up, you stupid bastard!" I shouted, finally having enough of this idiot. Where the hell did he get off telling me how I feel? How dare he insinuate he know me. He didn't have a fucking clue!

But the idiot was smiling triumphantly at me, not even a little bit unnerved by my colorful outburst. Furiously, I realized the idiot had provoked me into speaking and I'd fallen directly into his trap.

"See? It's not so bad," said Antonio, cheerfully.

"You idiot!" I shouted, finally giving in and punching Antonio as hard as I could in the arm. He just laughed and rubbed his shoulder where my fist had connected.

"It worked didn't it?" he said chuckling. "Seriously, I like you, Lovi. You're funny."

Bastard had no idea what he was getting himself into.

A/N: I was too lazy to proofread. I'll do that tomorrow. But I was just too excited to post this one. Tell me what you guys think :D Remember, the more popular stories get updated more regularly, so show me which ones you love!

Edit: So I FINALLY reread this chapter and am horrible embarrassed by how many mistakes were in it, namely the fact that I mentioned Ludwig, despite the fact I genderbent him OTL


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: New chappie! :D

Sorry it took so long. I just started my very first semester of college and have been busy. Thanks for all the awesome reviews on the first chapter. They made my heart feel happy :D And they really inspired me to keep writing. Fun fact about me: If I get a chapter that doesn't get any reviews, I abandon the story. So if you want me to keep writing, make sure you review. *stern look* Now enjoy the cuteness that is Antonio and Lovino. But proceed with caution as the following chapter does contain domestic violence.

* * *

I gave up on my resigned silence after that little excursion with Antonio. I had lost the words that had meant so much to me so it seemed rather pointless to continue on not speaking. My grandfather and brother were elated when we came back and I called Feli a stupid idiot, though Nonno did threaten to wash my mouth out with soap.

As the weather turned colder and we approached the end of the month, I found myself beginning to feel the effect of the loss of my parents less and less. I still missed them of course, but I had some other things on my mind. Halloween had always been my favorite holiday. Feli and I both loved candy and there was nothing I liked more than scaring people and dressing up. So when my grandfather announced that he was going to be turning the small Italian restaurant he owned—called _Romano's_. Creative I know—into a haunted house for the last week in October, I found myself more than eager to assist… something I can't say very often.

Antonio wanted to help too but for an entirely different reason.

"It's a good excuse to not go home and listen to Seth yell at my mom," he said brightly to me, the afternoon I told him about the Haunted house. It amazed me how he could say that so simply . I looked down at the table we sat at, tracing a finger over a crack in the false wood, wondering.

"Why does Seth yell at your mom so much, anyway?" I asked. It was an occurrence of at least twice a week when we could hear him shouting obscenities and insults from across the street. He was even meaner than I was.

Antonio's eyes darkened at my question.

"Because he's evil," he said. "He's el diablo, I'm sure of it. He's so mean to Mamá and me and I hate him."

"Why doesn't your mom just leave him then?" I asked. It seemed like a simple enough solution. Neither Antonio nor his mother seemed happy with their situation as it was so it stood to reason that they should get out of it.

"She can't," said Antonio sadly.

"Why not?"

"It's complicated."

I stared at Antonio, pityingly. I knew how much he hated his step father; he had told me many times about the fights he had with his mother that kept him up late and the awful words he slung at Alma. The only time Antonio ever seemed upset was when he was at or had recently been home. Antonio was, by nature, a very happy and chipper person, much like my brother. Before and after school, however, he was miserable, his attitude akin to that of a man about to go to the electric chair. I couldn't even begin to understand; my parents had rarely fought and neither one of them ever screamed out obscenities at the other like Seth did to Alma. In spite of myself, I found I was worried about the idiot before me: It must have been awful having to such an unwelcoming place be your home.

I knew Nonno was rather worried about it too. Almost every morning before school, he would ask Antonio how things were at home and Antonio would lie to him, telling him they were fine. I could tell it frustrated Nonno to be so blatantly fibbed to, but Antonio stuck to his story and since Nonno had no proof he was lying, there wasn't much he could do. Still, he made his feelings obvious in other ways: He would never allow Seth to look at him without a death glare on his face, for example, and despite his irritation with the boy, he was always incredibly nice to Antonio and his mother. He was also obsessed with Alma's bruises for some reason. She insisted she was just very clumsy but Nonno didn't believe her. I asked him once why he got angry every time he saw Alma had gotten hurt again.

"No one should ever be hurt like that," he had said and left it at that. I had no idea what that meant but I knew Nonno thought something very sinister was happening in Antonio's house. Whatever it was, Antonio and his mother both remained tight-lipped.

"Well, whatever," I said, eager to change the grim subject. "Anyway, here's a list of things we'll need for the haunted house. Know if you can get anything?"

"What do you need?" Antonio asked, his eyes scanning the list I had just set in front of him.

"Read the list, stupid," I said with a roll of my eyes. Really, he was so dense.

"I can't."

"Why not?"

"I can't read."

A ringing silence followed this confession. I had known Antonio for nearly a month now—he just wouldn't leave me alone—and I somehow hadn't noticed that I'd never seen him read anything. I just thought he didn't like to read, I never imagined someone his age couldn't, especially considering how easily it came to me. I was only six years old and I was already halfway through the Harry Potter series. Which is awesome, I might add. If you disagree, I'll kick your Muggle ass.*

"Are you serious?" I asked in disbelief.

Antonio gave an uncomfortable chuckle, scratching the back of his head.

"I'm not smart like you, Lovi. I'm no good at reading and writing. All the letters look weird to me. I can't do it in English _or_ Spanish."

I only stared at him, convinced there was something wrong with him. What kind of eight-year-old couldn't read?

"Well, whatever. Just bring fake spiders and snakes or something."

"I can do that," Antonio said, obnoxiously bright disposition back in place.

"Yeah…," I said, raising an eyebrow at him.

He laughed and resumed stuffing his sandwich into his face. I rolled my eyes before returning to my own lunch.

* * *

Nonno came and picked us up from school that day, just like always, but instead of taking us back to the restaurant like usual, he took us to the park again to play. While Nonno and Feli were distracted on the swings, Antonio led me away, back to the old abandoned house he had gotten me to speak in.

Antonio had found this place one late afternoon, when he'd climbed out his bedroom window and ran away to escape the chaos of his parents fighting again. It was a safe haven to him, his favorite place in the world.

"Hey, Lovi, you know what we should do?" he said, from behind me as I started out the grimy window at the trees surrounding the house.

"What, moron?" I responded.

"We should fix this place up. Make it a clubhouse!" He sounded far more enthusiastic than was necessary considering we were technically trespassing.

"How would we manage that?"

"We could find a way," he insisted, excitably. "Just think; we could get a table to play cards or something at and a bed so we could camp out and maybe even some posters and stuff. It'd be fun!"

"If you say so," I said resigned.

"It could be our own special place we could go where no one else is allowed!"

"I guess," I said slowly.

Antonio smiled his big, happy smile at me, as if I had actually been agreeing with him instead of just humoring him.

"It'll be fun," he said again.

I found I couldn't say no to him.

Nonno invited Antonio to have dinner with us that night and Antonio enthusiastically accepted. Antonio always ate like he was never going to eat again. Sometimes I wondered if he believed that was true. I knew he was on the free lunch program at school and he was outrageously skinny. I found myself wondering how often he actually got to eat. His family was so poor it wouldn't surprise me if his only meal was at school. Regardless, I was always so distracted watching him devour his meal that I'd forget to eat my own. Nonno had to remind me several times to eat.

"Enjoying the pasta, Antonio?" Nonno asked him amused.

"Yes, sir," he said excitedly, wiping his mouth on the back of his hand.

"Ve~ I am too, Nonno!" Feliciano eclaimed. I rolled my eyes.

"How are things in the third grade?"

"They're okay. Mrs. Jones has been talking to me a lot about my English grades. I think she thinks there's something wrong with me," he said thoughtfully.

"Oh there's nothing wrong with you, Antonio. You're a very smart boy."

"Haha, Thank you, sir," Antonio said scratching the back of his head awkwardly.

"And how are things at home?" Nonno asked off-handily.

Antonio's smile faltered slightly but only for a moment.

"Fine," he said, his grin no longer meeting his eyes.

"Your parents aren't fighting?"

"No more than usual," he said bitterly, apparently without thinking.

"What is it they fight about?"

Antonio's smile finally slipped off his face and he stared silently at his empty plate.

"Antonio?"

"Me, mostly," he admitted quietly.

I wished Nonno would stop. He was clearly really upsetting Antonio. I couldn't understand why he was so preoccupied with Antonio's home life. It really wasn't any of his business. Admittedly, I didn't understand why Antonio was so secretive about his parents but still. An unhappy Antonio was just unnatural.

The awkward silence was broken by the ringing of the doorbell.

"That must be your mother," said Nonno, getting to his feet to answer the door. Antonio perked up at that, jumping to his feet to follow Nonno to the door. Feli and I glanced at each other before getting up to follow.

"Mamí!" Antonio exclaimed when the door opened.

"Hola, Mijo," she said kneeling down to hug him. "Hello, Romano. Thank you for watching him."

"It's always a pleasure," said Nonno smiling. I looked into Antonio's mother's face. I was beginning to notice that her bruises never seemed to get better. Even as they faded, new ones seemed to appear. It was hard to believe someone could really be _that_ clumsy. Today, her left ear was blackened and swollen to twice its size. What on earth could she have tripped on to cause that? Nonno had noticed too and was scrutinizing it wearily.

"So what did you fall into this time?" he asked coolly.

The atmosphere in the room turned immediately icy.

"An end table, if you must know," said Alma, coldly.

"Quite an end table, by the look of it."

"Romano," Alma said, letting go of Antonio and rising to her full height to get a better look at Nonno. "Please."

"Hey, boys, why don't you go play in the living room?"

"Mamí and I have to leave," said Antonio, quickly.

"This will only take a minute."

Antonio looked to his mother with questioning eyes.

"Go, ahead, Mijo," Alma said giving Antonio a fake smile. "I won't be long."

Antonio looked hesitant but nodded and turned to head into the living room, Feli and I on his heels.

"What's going on?" I asked him.

"Nothing," he said shortly.

"Ve~ Antonio! Do you want to color with me?" Feliciano asked when we reached the living room.

"No."

"But—"

"Quiet, Feli," I said knowing Antonio wanted to listen in. I was hoping to hear what was going on too. Feliciano pouted but fell silent and Antonio and I leaned against the door to try and hear what the adults were saying.

"Alma," Nonno was muttering, "there's nothing wrong with asking for help."

"I don't need help," Alma said coldly.

"I'm your friend and I'm worried about you," Nonno said as if she hadn't spoken. "Both of you.

"You have nothing to worry about."

"Don't insult my intelligence. I know what's going on."

"There's nothing going on, and if you call the police, that's what I'll tell them."

"Alma, think of your son. Imagine what must be like for him watching his mother go through this."

"Imagine what it would be like for him never seeing his mother, living with people he barely knows in a country he's never been to."

"Alma, be reasonable."

"I _am_ being reasonable. Everything I do, I do for him. He is my life!"

"I know that."

"Do you? Because it seems like you're determined to get him taken away from me."

"That's the last thing I want, Alma, and you know it. I just want you both to be safe."

"I keep him safe. I'm his mother. He's not safer anywhere in the world than with me."

"You'll never hear me suggest otherwise. But Alma, you know how Antonio is. There will come a day when he's going to want to protect _you_. What will you do then? You can't save him if he throws himself into the line of fire."

There was a silence in the hall before—

"Mijo! We're leaving!"

All three of us jumped at the sudden loud tone. Antonio gave me a miserable look before we all trudged back into the hall.

"Bye, Señor Vargas," he said sadly. "Thanks for dinner."

"Anytime, Antonio," Nonno said with a sad smile. And they left.

"Nonno?" I asked. "Why were you and Antonio's mom fighting?"

"I'm just very worried about her," said Nonno, his eyes still on the closed door.

"Why?" I asked.

"She's making some bad choices for her and Antonio."

"What bad choices?"

"Don't worry about it, Lovi," he said seriously. "Go upstairs and do your homework, okay?"

I sighed but didn't argue.

* * *

It was very obvious the next day on the walk to school that Antonio was mad at Nonno. He hardly said a word to him, didn't smile and gave one word answers to all his questions. I couldn't figure out what was wrong. It wasn't like Nonno had yelled at him or anything. When Nonno waved us off to school and headed back down the street, I ran after Antonio.

"Hey, what's your problem?" I asked him. "Why are you so mad at my grandpa?"

"He made my mom cry," said Antonio angrily, glaring at the ground beneath his feet as he walked.

"How?"

"I don't know. But something he said really made her sad. When we got home, she told me I was never to get involved when she fought with Seth and then she hugged me and cried and cried and cried." He stopped, glaring at the ground, fists clenched. "I hate it when my mom cries," he said his voice shaking with suppressed rage. "She cries all the time already and we don't need him upsetting her."

I could only stare at him. One thing that's hard to miss about Antonio Carriado is that he is extremely close to his mother. It's almost obsessive. I could understand that, I supposed, since she was all he had, but there were still times when it truly amazed me how much he loved her. Watching the two of them really made me miss my own mother. I shook my head slightly to rid it of the depression of loss beginning to take hold.

"He's just worried," I insisted. "He thinks your dad—"

"He's not my dad!" Antonio cut me off, furiously. Instinctively, I took a step back from him; I'd never seen him look so angry before, especially for something so small.

"O-okay…," I said putting my hands up in defeat. "Your _step_ dad. He thinks your stepdad is doing something bad."

Antonio said nothing, just continued to glare at the ground, trembling.

"Is he?" I asked, cautiously.

Antonio exhaled deeply through his nose and turned to look me dead in the eyes.

"No," he said, simply. I knew he was lying, but I thought it would be best not to push Antonio when he was this angry.

"Okay," I said pretending to believe him. And without another word to me, he stalked off in the direction of the third grade classrooms.

* * *

That weekend, Nonno had to take Feliciano to the doctor for a routine check-up. Knowing how boring this trip would likely be for me, Alma had offered to take me to the mall with Antonio to take a look at Halloween costumes. Nonno agreed it was a good idea since it had already been established that she would be the one taking Antonio, Feli and me Trick-or-Treating (Since Francis wasn't going this year and Gilbert was apparently going with his parents a little sister).

After the she had bought Antonio his costume—Feli and I would be returning the next day with Nonno to pick up ours—she took us to the ice cream shop and bought us all Sundays. It was while we were sitting in the shop, eating our ice cream that a middle-aged woman came up to us with a concerned look on her face.

"Excuse me, Miss," she said to Antonio's mother, "Do you need some help?"

Alma looked up at her confused.

"I'm sorry?" she said, her head tilting slightly to the side, questioning.

"There are places you can go, Miss," the woman continued. "There are people who can take care of you and your children."

"They're not both mine," said Alma, clearly still confused. I looked across the table at Antonio for some indication of what was happening . He appeared to be just as lost as I was, "Miss, I volunteer at a shelter for battered women."

I saw Alma's green eyes widen in horror.

"I know how you must be feeling; ashamed and afraid—"

"I am _not_ a battered woman," said Alma shortly, outraged.

"Miss, really, there's nothing wrong with admitting you need help."

"I _don't_ need help!" Alma shouted. The parlor went silent, everyone turning to stare at the exchange. I glanced at Antonio again, who had gone ridged in his seat, staring at his mother as if he'd never seen anything like her before. "And I would appreciate you not making assumptions about my life based on the way I look."

"Miss—"

"Come on, boys, we're leaving," Alma said, getting to her feet.

"Mamí," Antonio said softly, "tal vez deberíamos …." [Maybe we should….]

"Ahora, Antonio," She said snappishly. Sadly, he got to his feet. I followed.

"Miss, please," the woman said, "think of your son."

"I am," she said softly. And we left.

"Mamí…," Antonio said cautiously from the passenger seat as we drove out of the parking lot, "¿Estás bien?"

"Sí, Mijo, estoy bien."

"What's a battered woman?" he asked, switching back to English.

"Something you don't have to worry about," Alma said shortly.

The car ride was silent after that.

* * *

"Go inside and wash your hands, okay boys?" was the next sentence spoken by Alma when we pulled up in front of Antonio's house. We got out of the car and trudged into the kitchen to oblige.

"What was that all about?" I asked Antonio when the kitchen door closed behind us.

"It happens all the time," said Antonio, stepping up onto the stool in front of the sink and turning the faucet on. "People want Mamí to go to shelters to get away from Seth."

"Why?"

Antonio pointedly ignored my question, taking several moments longer than necessary to wash his hands.

"What's he doing?" I pressed.

"Wash your hands," was the response I got as Antonio jumped down from the step stool.

"But—"

The sound of the kitchen door opening and closing cut me off. I turned to look over my shoulder, expecting to see Antonio's mother but instead, in the doorway stood a very tall, black haired man with a beard I'd never seen before.

My first thought was that he didn't look very nice; his brown eyes has rested on mine for only a moment, before he grimaced in something that looked an awful lot like disgust and turned to look at Antonio. I followed suit and was surprised to see the look on his face: he looked more livid and hateful than I'd ever seen him.

"Where's your mother?" the man asked Antonio.

Antonio only continued to glare at him.

"Don't look at me like that, boy, I asked you a question," the man snapped.

"I don't know," Antonio said shortly.

"Yes, you do. You know what happens to little boys who lie?"

"They grow up to be like you?"

"Don't you be smart with me. I'll—"

"Oh, honey, you're home early."

Alma had appeared in the doorway, causing Antonio's entire demeanor to change: instead of the hateful boy that had stood there only moments before, his face had morphed into that of a boy in the depths of horror, like he knew something terrible was about to happen.

"Yeah, I had to come home early when I noticed you'd been spending my money again," The man said coldly. I saw Alma wince slightly.

"I-I… I just took the boys to get some ice cream…."she said, timidly, taking a slight step away from the man.

"You spent fifty dollars on ice cream?"

"I-I… I had to get Antonio's Halloween costume too…."

"You're supposed to sew it, stupid. Isn't that what women do?"

Alma looked like she was trying very hard not to cry. Her shiny eyes kept darting to Antonio and me, horrified by what was happening.

"Hey, look at me!"

It occurred to me as he reached out and grabbed her by the arm and she shrank further away that this must be Antonio's stepfather. That would certainly explain the hatred on Antonio's face when he saw him. I glanced over at him, feeling awkward and unsure what to do in this situation. He was too busy staring at the ground, fists clenched, biting his lip hard enough to draw blood.

"I-I haven't had time," Alma moaned softly, "I've been working so much and I thought—"

"Oh you _thought_? That's new for you."

Alma sobbed slightly, attempting to pull her arm out of her husband's grasp.

"P-please… you're hurting me."

"You think I like doing that? You see what you make me do? Stop crying!"

And he slapped her. Actually slapped her; so hard across the face that the sound echoed all through the kitchen. I took a step back in horror. I'd never seen married people hit each other before. Why would they? They're supposed to love each other right? So why did he do that? Why would you hit someone you loved?

Another sob escaped Alma's lips as a red mark began to form on her cheek, and her eyes darted helplessly to Antonio and me standing fearfully behind her husband in the kitchen.

"You two go upstairs," Seth said over his shoulder to Antonio and me. Antonio turned miserable eyes to his mother, question, clearly unsure what to do.

"Go, Mijo," she said softly, her voice trembling with suppressed tears. "Take Lovino to play in your room."

Antonio was clearly trying very hard not to cry as well, I could tell from the way he was squeezing his eyes shut. Without a word, he grabbed me by the hand and pulled me from the kitchen, dragging me up the stairs and into his bedroom, where he shut the door and sank down to the fetal position in front of it.

"What the hell?" I asked, the second the door closed. "Why did he do that?"

"Because he's evil," said Antonio, his voice shaking as he held his head in his hands. "He's a monster."

A crash echoed from downstairs followed by a scream causing both of us to jump.

"You see what you make me do?!" Seth was shouting. "This could all be avoided if you'd use your fucking head!"

Antonio slapped his hands over his ears and began rocking back and forth on the floor, knocking his head against the door every time he went backwards.

"Make it stop, make it stop, please make it stop," he muttered.

Alma was crying downstairs again, Seth yelling at her to shut up. I slapped my own hands over my ears as the sound of another slap wrenched the air. So this was why Antonio always avoided the topic of what went on at home. No wonder he was so miserable when he first got away from there. This was terrifying. What kind of person did something like this, especially in front of a child? As another scream filled the air, Antonio stood up, suddenly and crossed the room to his window, wrenching it open.

"What are you doing?" I asked as he pushed the screen out.

"Come on. We have to get out of here." He was suddenly eerily calm, as he climbed out the window and onto the roof.

"Where are we going?"

"Where I always go when they fight," he said turning and extending a hand to me. "To the park."

I hesitated for only a moment—a moment long enough to hear another blow being dealt to Alma—before I took his hand and let him help me through the window.

"You do realize we're on the second floor," I pointed out, as he scooted over on the roof to make room for me.

"We climb down the tree over there. It's easy."

He was still speaking in that eerily calm voice, as if he was trying as hard as he could to repress what he was feeling, to make his emotions disappear altogether. It was unnerving. Even the way he stood and walked across the slanting roof to the tree was unnerving. This just wasn't right; even if I hadn't known him long, I knew that Antonio was not supposed to act like this. He was supposed to be happy and goofy and ridiculous and annoying… not like this, whatever this was.

"Lovi," he called softly as he stepped into the tree. I stood and cautiously made my way over, following him down.

Antonio didn't say a word to me as we walked down the darkening street to the park. That was even more unusual—it was usually impossible to get this kid to shut up. But he was silent as the grave as we walked down the path in the forest to the old abandoned cabin and pulled the door open. It wasn't until he had sat down on the dusty floor, his knees drawn up to his chest that he finally uttered a word.

"You can't tell your grandpa."

That seemed like an odd request.

"Why not?"

Antonio sighed, turning his green eyes to meet mine for the first time since all of this had started.

"If anyone found out, they'd take me away from Mamá and send me to live with my dad in Spain. I love my dad but I don't want to move to Spain. Mamí needs me here."

I knelt down in front of Antonio, staring at him pityingly. It must be so hard to watch someone do that to his mom and not be able to do anything about it. I imagined what I would have done if I'd known someone had been hurting _my_ mother. Not that it mattered anymore. She was dead.

"Does that happen a lot?" I asked.

"All the time," Antonio said miserably. "Almost every night. Over the dumbest things, too. Once, he broke her wrist because she didn't make the right thing for dinner. Mamá just told everyone she slipped in the shower."

"Has he ever done that to you?"

Antonio shook his head.

"No. Mamá wouldn't let him. He's threatened to, and sometimes he calls me names, but so far he only goes after her."

"Why doesn't she just leave?"

"She can't. Her marriage to him is the only thing keeping her legally in the country. She'll be deported back to Spain if they divorce and since I was born here… it's just confusing. Plus, I think she's afraid to. He once said he'd kill her if she ever tried to leave."

I had no idea what to say. No matter how you looked at it, Antonio and his mother seemed trapped in this awful situation. If he told anyone, he'd lose his mother; if he didn't tell anyone, he'd have to continue to watch this happen. What do you say in a situation like that?

"Lovi…?" Antonio asked softly, leaning in slightly to rest his head on my shoulder. "What's it like to have a normal family?"

I sighed, not having the heart to push him away, even if the contact felt awkward.

"It was great. It's great and then they die and leave you all alone," I said bitterly. "Everyone leaves."

"Not everyone," said Antonio, softly.

"Yes, everyone."

"Mamá won't ever leave me," he said. "And I won't ever leave you."

"Oh boy," I said sarcastically. "My own personal idiot that won't leave me alone."

"You'll learn to love me," Antonio said with a chuckle. In spite of myself, I was glad to hear the sound; it meant he was back to normal. Even if he was annoying, it just wasn't natural when he was upset.

"Hey Lovi?"

"What?"

"Thanks. For, ya know, listening and all that. And for keeping my secret."

I still didn't know if I wanted to keep his secret; it seemed like a big lie to tell. But one look at Antonio, his head still on my shoulder, his eyes closed content, and I was sold. I would keep his secret to the grave.

"Yeah, yeah, don't mention it, idiot."

* * *

It was over an hour before Antonio was willing to return home. Even as we approached his house, I could tell he was getting upset again. He perked up a bit when he noticed Seth's car wasn't in the driveway—meaning he had probably gone out for a drink or seven—but the sight of his home still seemed to depress him.

When we entered the kitchen, it was to find Nonno sitting at the kitchen table with Alma, holding a wet washcloth to her nose, which was bleeding and looked kind of… bent.

"You know, I really wish you'd let me help you with this," Nonno was saying, as he wiped blood from her face and she winced in pain.

"I told you, I tripped going up the stairs."

"Of course you did," said Nonno skeptically.

"Seth hasn't even been home yet."

"I never said anything about Seth."

"Mijo," Alma said finally noticing us in the doorway.

Nonno whirled around to look at us.

"Lovino," he said sternly. "You two should know better than to run off like that without telling anyone where you're going. Where have you been?"

"Sorry, Señor, it was my fault," said Antonio. "I made Lovino come with me to the park."

"Yeah, it was his fault," I agreed.

"Lovino."

"Blame it on me, Romano," said Alma, her voice still rather hoarse, probably from screaming. "I should have been keeping a better eye on them."

"Well you were preoccupied with falling down the stairs," he said, off-handily. Alma seemed to shrink in her seat.

"Up," she muttered.

Nonno leaned forward and put his hand on her shoulder.

"If you need anything, call me," he said softly. She nodded.

"Come on, Lovino," said Nonno, getting to his feet and stretching, "Let's go home."

I spared Antonio and his black and blue mother one last glance before I followed my grandfather out of the house and across the street back to our home.

* * *

"I hate all of you," I muttered furiously. What had previously been my favorite holiday had rolled around at last and my grandfather seemed intent on ruining it by stuffing me into this stupid costume.

Antonio, dressed up in his werewolf costume laughed at me. Stupid bastard, laughing at my pain; this was humiliating.

"I don't care what you say, I'm _not_ wearing this," I insisted.

"Come now, Lovino," said Nonno, messing with the stupid hat on my head. "You love tomatoes."

"Yeah to eat, not wear," I grumbled. This was humiliating. I had wanted to be vampire, but somehow I had gotten stuffed into this puffy, red monstrosity, complete with stem hat. I hated life.

"But you always look like a tomato, Lovi," said Antonio.

"Shut up, I do not!"

"Do too! Especially when you're mad. Your face gets all red and you puff your cheeks out just like a little tomato!"

"Ve~ he's right, Lovi," Feliciano laughed.

"Shut up, idiot, this is all your fault!"

It was. The whole reason I had been forced to waste my Halloween costume as my favorite fruit was because my brother was _himself_ a fruit. He'd wanted to be a fairy princess. I kid you not. The only way Nonno had managed to talk him out of it was to convince him to do a costume trade with me, where I got to pick his costume and he picked mine. I, being the kind older brother I am (don't give me that look) let him be a witch. He picked a fucking tomato. I hate my brother.

"Lovino, if you're going to have an attitude, you can just stay home," my grandfather warned. I pouted but said nothing more about my boyhood Halloween trials.

"Alright, have fun boys," Nonno said, leaning down to give Feli and me hugs. I did not return mine. What can I say? I'm a grudge-holder.

One hour later and we were becoming victims of our success, our candy pails growing so heavy we were certain our arms would fall off, not that we were complaining. Well, _I_ was, but I'm always complaining. For once, so was Antonio, and he had been for the last half hour, stating every few minutes that he had to go to the bathroom.

"Lovino, will you be a dear and go with Antonio to find a bathroom?" Alma asked me, still holding onto Feli's hand.

"Okay," I agreed.

"Thank you, Lovi!" he said, grabbing my hand and pulling me down the street at a run. I guess he really had to go.

Because Antonio is such a genius, he decided against heading in the direction of town square where we could go into a public restroom and headed towards the woods that bordered the park. And then, for some unfathomable reason, we had to walk twenty minutes to find the PERFECT DAMN TREE FOR HIM TO PEE BEHIND. Seriously, Antonio, get your shit together.

"Hey, Lovi," he said when he had finished, "do you remember what direction we came in from?"

"How the hell would I know? You led the way in, Moron!"

"I think it was this way, but I'm not sure…."

"Bastard, you better not have gotten us lost!"

"We're not lost," Antonio insisted. "Just a little turned around."

"Get me out of here!"

"I'm pretty sure it's this way," Antonio said, taking my hand and leading me in the direction he had indicated.

It wasn't. We walked in that direction for a good half an hour before I came to the conclusion that we were indeed lost.

"You are such a moron," I said with a roll of my eyes.

"Do you hear something?" He asked, ignoring my previous statement.

"Don't try to scare me!"

"I'm not. I really heard something."

Antonio and I fell silent, listening closely.

"There. Did you hear that?"

I did. There was rustling in the bushes nearby, as if someone was lurking just out of sight.

"Who's there?" Antonio called. There was no answer. Unconsciously, I shuffled closer to Antonio as the rustling started up again. "Hello?"

The next moment Antonio and I had both fallen over backwards over a tree root in our haste to get out of the way of the masked person that had just run out at us from the bushes screaming at us. Antonio threw his arm out in front of my face, shielding me from the attacker as I clung to him in fear. So distracted was I being terrified I didn't notice whoever it was had stopped right above us and was no laughing, hysterically.

"Sadiq?" Antonio said incredulously. Cautiously, I lifted my head from his shoulder to look up at the person laughing above us. It was a boy around Antonio's age, a white mask covering his face, hunched over and clutching his stomach as he laughed. "You jerk! What are you doing here?!"

Antonio had jumped back to his feet, offering his hand to me and pulling me up. "You okay?"

I nodded.

"Who's the masked bastard?"

"Haha Sadiq Adnan," the boy said, straightening up and placing a hand on Antonio's shoulder. "I'm in Toni's class."

"Don't touch me!" Antonio shouted, shaking the boy off. "What are you doing here?"

"I wanted to hide out and scare some people. And who should happen by but you?"

"Do you know how to get out of here?" I asked, ignoring Antonio's obvious irritation.

"Yeah, follow me."

"No thanks," said Antonio, crossing his arms stubbornly.

"You're the one who got us lost, in the first place! We're following the masked bastard!"

Antonio sighed in irritation, rolling his eyes. It occurred to me here, that it was likely a very rare occurrence for overly-friendly Antonio to be so blatantly rude to someone. He must really dislike this kid.

"Fine," Antonio conceded and together we followed Sadiq out of the woods.

"Where have you been?!" Antonio's mother shouted at us when we finally managed to find her and my brother again. "I was worried sick! You were gone for nearly an hour!"

"Sorry, Mamí, we got lost," said Antonio.

"Because Antonio is a genius," I added.

"Mijo, you need to stop running off like that," she said kneeling down to look at her son.

"Sorry, Mamí," Antonio repeated.

Alma sighed and wrapped her arms around Antonio holding him close for several long moments before she pulled back and looked at her watch.

"Well, it's almost eight. We should probably head home."

Alma led us back down the street to my house, where Nonno was waiting for us, seated in one of the chairs on the porch.

"Hey boys," he greeted jovially. "Did you have fun?"

"Ve~ look how much candy I got, Nonno!" Feliciano exclaimed, running up to Nonno and showing him the inside of his jack-o-lantern bucket.

"Ah, good job, Feli," said Nonno rustling Feliciano's hair. "Say, Antonio, how would you like to have a sleep over with the boys tonight?" he added to Antonio, getting to his feet.

"Can I, Mamí?" Antonio asked enthusiastically.

"I don't mind," Alma said lightly. "Just be home by noon tomorrow, okay?"

"Okay!"

"Ve~ Come on, Antonio! Let's all sleep in Lovi's room tonight!"

"What?!" I said incredulously, running after my brother who was pulling Antonio by the hand toward my room.

"Lovi, you should read us a story!" said Feliciano, bursting into my room.

"No, stupid, who said you could come in here?"

"You're room is the biggest, fratello."

That _was_ an admittedly decent point.

"Fine," I conceded with a roll of my eyes.

"Hey, Lovi, can you read this to us?" Antonio asked, pulling a book off my bookshelf and handing it to me. I looked down at his selection. He'd chosen _Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone._

"Yeah, okay, fine, sit down."

Eagerly, the two idiots settled themselves on my bed and I sat down between them, opening the book to the first page and began to read:

'"Mr. and Mrs. Dursely of number 4 Private Drive were perfectly normal (thank you very much!)…"'

* * *

A/N: God this was so difficult to write and I'm incredibly unsatisfied with it. I hope the seventeen people who added this to their alerts last chapter don't lose interest after that horrible display of my writing ability OTL

*that's actually from a song by Ministry of Magic. I love Harry Potter and just had to have Lovi enjoy it too. I figured since he's the one writing the story he had to be pretty good at English. However, he's very bad at math.

Also, don't attack me for _Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone. _I'm American, the story takes place in America, that's what it's called in this country. Blame the stereotype that prompted them to change the title.

Is it just me or does Alma lose track of her kid a lot?

Did you just Gender-bend _Ludwig?_ Yes. Yes I did. I didn't want to make both brothers gay and Italy with anyone but Germany is just wrong. So yes, out of the two of them _Lovino_ is the gay one :D Anyway, Fem!Germany's name is Lucille in this and she will eventually make an appearance. Not entirely sure when but you'll see her soon.

I'd like to take the time to thank all the people who reviewed last chapter. They really give me the confidence to keep writing, even if it does take forever for me to get chapters out. So thank you and I hope you'll stick with me. I love you all. :D


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